Heroes Have In-laws, Too
by Croik
Summary: Bruce has dinner with Peter and Aunt May (takes place after Let's Glow in the Dark).


This fic takes place after We Might Be Radioactive and Let's Glow in the Dark. It's mostly awkward fluff. I'm going to be doing some more shorts before finally jumping into an official third longfic installment. C&C welcome and appreciated!

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**Heroes Have In-laws, Too**  
Oneshot

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Once again, Bruce felt ridiculously teenaged.

He climbed out of a taxi in Forest Hills a few minutes before seven, a bouquet of fresh flowers tucked in one arm, a small bakery box in the other. He was armed with a fresh haircut and a navy suit jacket, and as he climbed the short steps to the Parker house, he couldn't help but wonder if any spying neighbors would think he was there for May.

"Easy, Banner," he mumbled, fumbling both items into one arm so he could ring the doorbell. He took a deep breath and was uncomfortably reminded of the first time Betty had convinced him to sit down to dinner with her father. "Easy."

May answered the door. She smiled, awkward but trying to hide it, and Bruce was certain his expression looked the same. "Bruce, come in," she greeted, opening the door wide. "I'm glad you could come."

"Thank you; so am I." Bruce stepped inside and could immediately smell cooking herbs and garlic. Though he had always eaten well at Stark Tower, there was something far more inviting about home cooking in the warm and cozy Parker house. "I, um." He offered the flowers. "I thought..."

"Oh, thank you." May accepted the flowers and carried them toward the kitchen, motioning for him to follow. Bruce slipped out of his shoes and made sure the door was closed behind him before doing so.

"They're lovely," said May as she hunted through her cabinets for a vase. "If you need to leave that in the fridge...?"

"Hm?" Bruce very nearly asked why flowers would need refrigeration, remembering just in time that he had a cake box in his hands. "Oh, yes. It's, um, a cheesecake. I hope that's all right."

May smiled, handing him the vase in exchange for his box. "Of course. Peter will be thrilled."

As she tucked the cake away in the fridge, Bruce took the hint and filled the vase from the sink. "Normally for a dinner invitation I'd bring wine," he said, "but it didn't seem..." He trailed off when he realized that May was raising her eyebrows at him. He felt a blush in his ears. "Didn't seem appropriate."

"No," said May with only a hint of her former smile to let him hope that she wasn't actually offended. "It wouldn't have been."

Bruce gulped. Less than two minutes and he was already considering a retreat, but then footsteps thundered down the stairs from the second floor, skipping the last few steps for a loud landing on the hardwood. He had no choice but to brace himself.

Peter appeared in the doorway, and Bruce wasn't quite prepared for the sight of him. They had parted only twenty-four hours ago, having been released from the Hellicarrier and Fury's watchful eye. Faint bruises were still visible on Peter's jaw and neck from a series of grueling battles, and despite everyone's insistence, Bruce couldn't shake the feeling that he had been responsible for some of them. But Peter was clean, and well-dressed, and his face when he spotted Bruce was bright and excited. He hurried over, which led to a brief, clumsy shuffle of Bruce trying to put flowers-to-vase while Peter cast quick, embarrassed looks at his aunt. They both laughed.

"Hey, Bruce," said Peter. "Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it." Bruce finally managed to wrangle the flowers, and when he carried them to the dining room, Peter was close at his side. He set the flowers out on the table and then could finally face Peter properly. "How are you doing?" he asked, brushing his thumb over the bruise on Peter's jaw.

Peter shifted his weight as if restraining himself from something. "I'm fine," he said. "A little sore, here and there. But I'll be back at the tower tomorrow." He glanced to the kitchen, and when he was sure May had her back turned, he darted in to kiss the corner of Bruce's mouth. "Thanks for coming."

Bruce chuckled. "You said that already."

Peter blushed and shrugged. "I know it's kind of weird, so I'm just...I'm glad. Do you want something to drink?"

"Um, sure. Just water."

Peter pulled out a chair, so Bruce sat down while he skipped back into the kitchen to help May with dinner. Bruce wiped his palms on his slacks and took a deep breath. Weird didn't begin to describe it. He had tried to prepare himself, but he already didn't have much experience in the arena of meeting in-laws, let alone in such a unique case. He supposed he should have just been happy that May was tolerating him at all.

Peter returned a moment later, placing three water glasses on the table, and then hopping away again to help May bring the plates. "It's nothing fancy," said May. "Lemon and herb chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and...?"

Peter's feet didn't seem to hit the floor as he darted to the kitchen and back with two more bowls. "Corn bread and watermelon," he finished, laying them out. "Because, summer."

Bruce grinned, impressed. "It smells delicious," he said honestly. His mouth was already watering. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble for me."

"Pshht." Peter smirked as he sat down. "We eat like this all the time."

"Peter even helped tonight," added May as she took her seat.

"Well, I mashed the potatoes, at least."

Everyone dug in. Even after living in Stark Tower with Tony's personal chefs on hand, the taste of a simple, home-cooked meal pleased Bruce more than he thought possible. He hummed appreciatively and helped himself to the cornbread. "This is wonderful. Is there cheese in the potatoes?"

"Just a little parmesan," said Peter, beaming. "You like it?"

"Yes, it's great. I've missed meals like this."

May smiled modestly. "I'm glad. Now Peter can't say that I tried to frighten you away with my cooking."

Bruce choked briefly on his cornbread, washing it down with a gulp of water. "Aunt May," Peter hissed.

"But I told him," May continued, "that if he's worried about _me_ scaring you off, that already says enough, doesn't it?"

Peter squirmed in his chair. "Do we have to go into this _now_?"

"No, it's all right," said Bruce. Even so, he stalled for a moment by cutting into his chicken. "I wouldn't have come if I wasn't ready for an interrogation. You can ask me anything you like, May."

May regarded him quietly for a moment, sizing him up. He felt he could imagine very well what she was thinking and feeling: her protectiveness for her young nephew, her apprehension of this strange, socially awkward older man. He wasn't always sure himself how everything had come together, and it made him dizzy to think of it through someone else's eyes. All things considered, May was the epitome of calm and rational understanding when she asked, "I'd like to know more about you, Bruce. Who are you, what your plans are." She straightened a bit. "And more about the Hulk."

"Aunt May," Peter warned again.

"It's all right," Bruce repeated. He smiled at Peter and hoped he looked more confident than he felt. He reminded himself that he had prepared for this. "Well, to start, I was born and raised in New Mexico," he said. "My parents are, unfortunately, deceased. I studied nuclear physics in school and was selected to be part of a military project, studying the effects of gamma radiation." He looked to Peter. "That was with General Ross."

Peter licked his lips, anxious and curious at once. "That's when you...became Hulk."

"I'm afraid I can't explain it very well," he went on, focusing on May again. "Even now I'm not sure how I survived the accident, let alone why the radiation had the effect on me that it did. What I do know is that a large amount of radiation was absorbed into my body, making it so that I'm able to become the green creature I'm sure you've seen on the news."

May nodded vaguely. "Radiation," she said. "Like what happened to Peter?"

"Not...exactly." Bruce shook his head. "The one thing we know about radiation is that we don't know enough about it," he said with a slight smile. "But ever since it happened to me I've been trying to find a way to control my...abilities. Or to eliminate them entirely."

"Would you?" asked May, and Bruce couldn't help but grimace beneath the strength of her maternal intuition. "I thought you were an Avenger. But you're trying to give it up?"

"That's..." Bruce poked at his chicken. "It's complicated."

"He doesn't want to give it up," said Peter confidently. "It's just, you know, inconvenient when you can't control something. But he's already the strongest Avenger, and he's getting better at controlling it all the time. He saved my life, you know."

Bruce continued to eat as if he could hide the rush of pleasure brought on by Peter's unwavering support. "You saved mine, too," he said, and Peter blushed happily.

May glanced between them, looking as if she was having trouble deciding between amusement and disapproval. "I know he did," she said to Peter. "And I'm more grateful than I can say. I'm just trying to understand all of this."

"Well, what's to get?" Peter shrugged, and Bruce managed not to flinch when he felt Peter nudging his foot under the table. "He's a superhero, I'm a superhero. We look out for each other. Hulk and I made a great team a few weeks ago, when Cap...um, yeah. We just need to work on our communication. A little." May looked ready to say more, but Peter rambled on. "Speaking of Cap, how is he? You got to stay on the Hellicarrier after we left, right? What happened to everyone?"

"He's...um." Bruce flashed May an apologetic smile. "He's fine. With Hammer's men in custody they cleared him to go back to his apartment. Tony's back at the tower. He says he's getting things ready for Steve's birthday on Wednesday. You're both still invited, by the way."

"We'll be there. Right, Aunt May?"

May sighed, but she did smile. "I don't see how we could turn down an invitation from Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, no kidding." Peter gulped down a huge mouthful of mashed potatoes. At least the mood was lifting. "When I pulled him out of the basement, he said he was giving me a job. I'm going to hold him to that."

"You should," said Bruce. "Make sure you get it in writing before he skips town."

Peter took over the conversation as they finished dinner. He spoke about the interns at the tower that would be envious of his "in" with Tony, which floor of the tower he would prefer to work on, where in Manhattan he had considered looking for an apartment. "I'm going to be starting at ESU in the fall," he reasoned as he picked seeds out of his watermelon. "Commuting even by web is already a hassle. If I have to go between school and the tower every day, I need a place in Manhattan. Mr. Stark's gotta pay me enough for at least a hole in the wall, right?"

"Tony would probably buy you a building if you asked him to," said Bruce. "I'm sure he'll set you up."

Peter shook his head. "I don't need a handout. I can work for it just like everyone else."

Once everyone had eaten their fill, Bruce insisted on helping with clean up. He and Peter did the dishes side by side at the sink while May tucked away leftovers. As soon as they were done, Peter grabbed Bruce's hand and led him out of the kitchen. "I'm going to show Bruce the basement," he declared. "We'll be right back, Aunt May."

"All right, Peter." She moved to the living room as Bruce and Peter retreated, and a moment later they could hear a television news report.

Bruce tried not to overthink as he followed Peter down the wooden stairs into the basement. Any concerns he had over motives were briefly forgotten when he saw what Peter had to show him. The unfinished space had been fashioned into a workroom, with different tables bearing Peter's spare parts, finished pieces of Spider-Man gear, and a variety of well-worn tools. A decently stocked chemistry setup took up a far table with the best light. "It's not much," said Peter as he ushered Bruce from one spot to the next, encouraging him to look everything over. "My little Spider-Lab, I guess you'd call it. I've been getting it ready so I can start synthesizing my own webbing, like we talked about."

Bruce stopped in front of the chemistry set-up, uncorking a vile to sniff. "Looks like you've got most of what you'll need. I'll help you fill in the rest." Nostalgia warmed his chest as he turned in place, taking the space in. "Damn. It reminds me of college. We built a lab just like this in the dorm basement, up until the janitors chased us out."

Peter was watching him closely. "It's not exactly a private floor in Stark Tower, but it's not bad, huh?"

"It's perfect." Bruce drew his fingertips over the surface of the closest desk and smiled. "Tony spoils me so much, it's been a long time since I built up a lab for myself. I kind of miss it."

"Well, you can help me rebuild it all when I move," said Peter. "To my new apartment...or wherever I end up."

Bruce glanced up. He caught himself before asking the potentially dangerous question of _where else would you be?_ "I'd like that," he said instead. "Sounds like fun."

Peter stepped closer; he had that look on his face Bruce could never say "no" to. "Hey, Bruce. Can I kiss you?"

Bruce blushed, feeling even younger than Peter as he tried not to shuffle his feet. "Since when do you ask permission?"

Peter shrugged, but he quickly became serious. "It's been a rough couple of days," he said. "I don't want to push you, you know? If you're uncomfortable."

It was touching and humbling, and Bruce was momentarily speechless. But Peter just kept watching him with those warm eyes of his, and finally he had little choice but to answer. "I'm okay," he said, and that, along with a slight gesture of welcome, was all it took to get Peter in his arms, wrapped around him, a kiss to his lips.

Peter was still careful. Bruce could feel him holding back, trying to be gentle and considerate, even though it was clear what he really wanted and needed. When Bruce held him tighter, he tensed, betraying every bruise. It didn't seem fair, and Bruce would have traded him for all his pain, if he could have. But all he could do was offer sincere kisses, so he did, trying to be for Peter all he deserved.

When Peter pulled back, he was smiling. "Sorry," he said. "I was just, you know. I've been worried about you."

Bruce worked his fingers carefully into Peter's sides and back, hoping to undo some of the knots tightening his muscles. A quiet sigh encouraged him to continue. "I'm okay," he said again, though immediately after he realized what Peter must have really meant. "I'm not going to run away on you, Peter. I promise."

"I know," Peter quickly replied, though his relief was obvious. "I know."

He kissed Bruce again, harder, leaning into him. Bruce returned the affection in kind, but he didn't let it continue for long. "Your aunt is just upstairs," he reminded Peter by way of explanation.

"She won't come down." Even so, Peter contended himself resting his chin on Bruce's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, relaxing beneath the slow massage of Bruce's hands. "About Aunt May giving you a hard time."

"She's actually been more understanding that I could have hoped for. I deserve a hard time." Bruce smiled grimly against Peter's ear. "If it was _my_ nephew dating a Hulk, I'd be putting him through the paces, too."

Peter squirmed. "But still..."

"It's going to be fine." Bruce gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I know she understands."

Peter relaxed, seemingly convinced, but Bruce knew there were still a lot of questions left. He had plenty to answer for, and he hoped his honesty would be enough.

They stayed for a while longer, taking comfort from each other's presence, from the knowledge that they were safe and together, before venturing upstairs again. May was still in front of the television, and as they joined her Bruce's heart sank when he heard the newscaster bringing up a familiar topic.

"-Still haven't been able to reach him for comment," she was saying, "but this footage speaks for itself. Taken outside the Stark Tower early yesterday morning, it-"

When May noticed them approaching, she muted the volume. "So," she said, over-loud, "what do you think of the basement?"

"It's wonderful." Bruce gave Peter's hand a squeeze as they entered the living room. "Peter's done a great job. I can't imagine the mischief he'll be up to once he has a professional lab of his own with proper funding."

"It's already professional," Peter insisted. "I'm a professional, aren't I? That makes it professional."

Despite his better sense, Bruce looked to the television. Just as he'd feared he found himself there, facing down Hammer in the Tower's entryway as journalists crowded all around.

"Oh?" said May. "And does that mean you're finally being _paid_ for your hero work?"

"Not exaaaaactly. But Director Fury said-"

"Oh, Director Fury said. Well."

In the footage, Bruce turned toward Hammer's gun. His eyes were intense, and Bruce strained as if there was a chance of hearing what came out of him. It was surreal. Years later and he still had trouble reconciling with images of the Hulk, going through motions he didn't remember making. Watching his own, human body trapped on screen was somehow worse. He remembered standing opposite Hammer, could easily recall the press of the gun against his skin, but he couldn't connect his experience to the reflection of it. It didn't seem any more real or more _him_ than the beast did.

"Bruce?" Peter gave his hand a shake. "You okay?"

May lifted the remote again, but Bruce waved it down. "I'm fine," he said. "You can put it back on."

May looked sympathetic. "They've been showing it most of the day. I'm impressed you made it over here, considering how many people are looking for you."

"I'm used to it," said Bruce, but as the report moved back to the studio, he was forced to reconsider. "Well, maybe not to this extent. But that's what's good about living in a tower, I suppose."

"Are you worried?" Peter asked. "I know it was a big deal for you before, that no one knew where you were. Now most of the world knows who the Hulk really is..."

Bruce frowned-_GREEN GIANT STILL IN MANHATTAN? _was scrolling across the TV-but he still felt oddly separated from it all, and he couldn't make himself care as much as he thought he ought to. Peter needed him to be stronger than that. "This might actually be the best thing for me," he said, testing the words as they came out. "Now everyone knows for certain that I'm part of the team-that I'm more than just the Hulk. Maybe the threat of Fury _and_ the Avengers will keep anyone left who was interested in me at bay."

"Except for me, you mean?" Peter teased, but then he seemed to remember that May was still there, and with a blush he headed for the kitchen. "Okay, it's time for dessert!"

Bruce let out a breath. "I doubt there's much that _could_ keep him at bay," he said, not loud enough for Peter to hear.

"There are some things," said May, but before Bruce could consider asking what she meant, she stood to help Peter in the kitchen.

The three of them ate Bruce's cheesecake in the living room, sitting side by side on the couch just like any family might spend their evening. The news continued to only want to talk about Justin Hammer and the surrounding incidents, so they found a network playing _Independence Day_ for the upcoming Fourth of July. Though Bruce was somewhat appalled to learn that Peter had never seen it because he had been only two years old when it was released, they took a great deal of amusement from pointing out the dated references and scientific inaccuracies.

As the aliens flooded out of their ship, keen on murdering Will Smith's plucky sidekick, May asked, "Isn't this a bit close to home for you as well, Bruce?"

"More for the rest of New York than me," Bruce said with a shrug. "I was the Hulk for most of the Manhattan invasion. I hardly remember any of it."

"Same here," added Peter. When Bruce cast him a curious look, he shrugged as well. "I showed up for the fight. But I, uh, kind of took a sign to the head early on. Man." His eyes gleamed, reflecting an onscreen explosion. "Can you imagine what might have been different, if I'd met you all right then?"

"It would have been different," Bruce agreed. "You would have met the Hulk before me." His lip quirked. "I'm not so sure we would have hit it off like we did."

"Why not?" Peter settled in more heavily against him. "Hulk is rad."

Bruce smiled weakly. There was a lot he might have said, if not for May watching them out of the corner of her eye.

They watched the rest of the movie. Bruce could feel Peter growing gradually slack against his shoulder, and he kept very still to keep from disturbing him. By the time the credits were rolling, there was no doubt that Peter was deeply asleep. Bruce would have liked to find him peaceful, but without his glowing smile to drown out the bruises and scrapes, he simply looked exhausted. "I'll take him up," he offered quietly, and then thought better of it, and then tried to look casual. Awkwardly.

May gave him a look. "You're really making this worse than it has to be," she whispered back. "Upstairs, second door on the left."

Bruce bobbed his head in embarrassment as he scooped Peter off the sofa. He was just as light as Bruce remembered and he didn't stir. With a sheepish smile carried Peter up the stairs and easily found the bedroom.

It looked like any teenager's bedroom ought to, with the exception of a Spider-Man suit sticking out of the bottom dresser drawer. Bruce smiled to himself with nostalgia as he stepped past discarded clothing and a pile of computer parts to reach the bed. "Down you go," he murmured as he laid Peter gently onto the mattress. Peter didn't wake, but he squirmed just enough that Bruce was able to work a blanket out from under him. After tucking him in he sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment to just watch. It would have been nice, he thought to himself, curling up together on a worn bed too small for them both. Just to sleep for a long time and have peaceful dreams.

When Bruce returned to the first floor, May wasn't in front of the television anymore. He followed the telltale _pop_ of a wine cork giving way into the kitchen, and found May pouring white wine into a water glass. "It was a gift, from a neighbor," she explained. "I didn't want to be ungrateful, so I kept it, but it seemed like a waste to drink it alone." She glanced to him. "Would you like some?"

"Yes," Bruce replied, probably faster than he ought to have. "Please."

May poured the alcohol, and together they sat down at the kitchen table. The drink was fruitier than Bruce was used to but he would have taken just about anything at that point. After they'd both had a moment to let the drink settle, he said, "Mrs. Parker-"

"May," she corrected him.

"May. Well, I..." He winced. "I feel like there's so much I should say and I don't know where to start."

May was quiet for a moment as she contemplated the wine; Bruce was very happy to give her all the time she needed. "I've thought about all the things I should be saying, too," she began at last. "About how much I love that boy. The oh-so-terrible things I would do to you if anything ever happened to him." Bruce gulped, and she waited to see it before continuing. "But I have a feeling you understand."

"I do, and I don't want to hurt him," Bruce said sincerely. "I never have. I've even discouraged him, for as much good as it's done. And not because I..." He stopped, reminding himself who he was speaking to, and licked his dry lips before trying to start over. "I can only imagine what you must think of me. I don't know what to think of it myself sometimes. But I never meant to use him, or manipulate him. I only want what's best for him."

"I know. I can tell." May smiled, though he could see the emotion she had to struggle through to do it. "He thinks the world of you, you know."

Bruce took another gulp of the wine. "I don't deserve it," he found himself saying. "I keep telling him that. Peter, he's just so...good." He sagged helplessly. "He wants so badly to do the right thing, to help people. He's brave and he's strong and he's brilliant. There are so few people like that; I don't know how they do it. It's almost frightening."

Though he worried that May would think him strange, when he looked up she was still smiling. "I know," she said.

"He's even willing to put up with me." Bruce chuckled as if it were a joke, but then quickly grew serious again. "The truth is, he's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. And I know it's probably not right of me, but I don't think I can let him go unless he tells me to."

May wiped at her eyes. "I'm not asking you to."

She drank down what was left in her glass, and Bruce did the same. They shared a smile as she poured them both another glass. "I want to trust him," she said. "With everything he's got his hands in right now. But it's so much, Bruce. I worry about him all the time, and I feel so helpless, especially when he's out there. At least...if he's with you, I know I'm not the only one who feels that way."

"Even if we weren't together, I would be looking out for him," Bruce promised. "I will be. He's not out there alone, May." Taking a chance, he reached across the table to give her hand a squeeze. "Neither are you."

For a moment May's expression crumbled as if she might cry, but she quickly rallied herself. She squeezed back. "Thank you, Bruce. Really."

"Can I ask you something?" said Bruce once they had both taken a moment to settle once more. She nodded. "Did you know all along that he was Spider-Man?"

May pulled a face. "Not all along," she admitted. "I could tell that something was going on. He started going out at all hours, getting into trouble, but I just couldn't put it all together." She huffed. "Who assumes their nephew is a super hero? But then there was that night, with Dr. Connors..." She nodded toward the next room. "I was sitting right on that couch, watching the news. And I just knew...that was my Peter out there." She shook her head. "The nightmares I've had about the things I might see, sitting on that couch."

"I can only imagine," said Bruce.

May took another sip of her wine. "It wasn't even much of a _surprise_," she continued in a lighter tone. "Peter Parker, super hero. He used to read all those comic books growing up." Her eyes lit up with secrecy. "For his eleventh birthday Ben 'snuck' him into his first PG-13 movie. He was in love with Johnny Storm for about the next five months."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh. "That explains the spandex, at least."

May chuckled with him, but she looked tired. Their conversation stalled awkwardly, and then May asked, "Can you promise me something, Bruce?"

Bruce's hand tightened around his glass. "What is it?"

May took in a deep breath and gathered herself up. "I need you to promise that you'll always be honest with me," she said firmly. "I don't need to know everything about you, or about what goes on... But I'm putting a lot of faith in you right now. If nothing else, I want to know that you'll come to me, if there's something I need to know." She softened a little. "Or if you just need someone to go to. I told Peter and I'm telling you: I'm here for you both. All I'm asking in return is honesty."

Bruce swallowed hard. He had no trouble understanding then how Peter had grown up to be the man that he was. "I promise," he said, and it was the easiest he had ever made. "I'll be honest with both of you."

"Good. So will I."

May raised her glass, and Bruce met her in a toast.

* * *

Peter's alarm clock went off at six in the morning, and for the first time, he was angry with it for being too _late_.

"_Damn_ it," Peter groaned. He was fully dressed and he didn't remember crawling into bed, leading to only one possible explanation: he'd wasted an important evening. He'd left Aunt May and Bruce alone together. He had no idea what had happened.

As soon as he left his room he could hear the shower running, so he skipped the bathroom for the moment and headed straight downstairs, thinking he could get breakfast started. "Can't believe you fell asleep," he grumbled to himself as he turned on the kitchen lights. "After all that. Finally got him over, and..." He sighed, opening the fridge. "Stupid."

He heard a noise from the living room. On his toes he investigated, and was rewarded with Bruce, stretched out on the sofa, asleep.

Peter leaned against the back of the sofa for several minutes, just watching. He had seen Bruce asleep several times, and was relieved that morning to find him peaceful. In fact, he didn't look so much as mussed after all the commotion and struggle of the last few days. Curious, he nudged Bruce's pant leg up and pushed down his sock, looking for where Hammer had bitten him in the elevator shaft. The skin was flawless; Hulk didn't get scars.

Bruce rolled his ankle. "That tickles," he mumbled.

Peter smiled and tugged Bruce's sock back up. He tried to think of something witty or even meaningful to say, but he was just so happy to have Bruce still in his home that he simply climbed over the sofa and draped himself over him.

Bruce grunted, coming fully awake as Peter situated himself. "Good morning."

"Morning." Peter tucked his nose under Bruce's chin and smiled when he felt the weight of a hand against his back. "I figured you must have left after I passed out."

"I didn't want to leave without saying anything to you," said Bruce, squirming just enough to peek at the clock player before relaxing again. "But I didn't want to wake you up, either."

"So you just stayed?" Peter could have melted straight through him. "How sweet of you."

Bruce's other hand traced idles shapes against Peter's bicep. "Your aunt said you hadn't slept since leaving the carrier. You needed it."

Peter flinched, but then Bruce's gentle fingers kneaded the tension out of his shoulders. "Yeah," he muttered. "I guess so."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah-of course I am." Peter burrowed deeper into Bruce's arms. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it-everything that happened. It's so hard to get my brain around it. But apparently I got a ton of sleep last night, so I'm good."

"Peter."

"Are _you_ all right?" Peter licked his lips. "You and Aunt May, did you...talk much? After I was out of it?"

"Yeah, we did." Bruce gave his ear a pinch to tease him, and then rubbed it between his fingers as if apologizing. "She told me all sorts of embarrassing stories about you."

Peter groaned, though in reality he was very pleased; Aunt May didn't share stories with people she didn't like. "So you're both okay?" he asked anyway. "I mean, I guess she didn't throw you out, so..."

"We're fine, Peter," said Bruce. "I'm not sure how well she _likes_ me, but...she understands. It's going to be fine."

"Good." Peter released a long sigh along with many worries. "Good."

They both heard when the upstairs shower turned off. Peter would have liked to stay right where he was for much longer, but he knew May would be headed downstairs soon, and he didn't want to push his luck. With a reluctant shake of his head he got his arms beneath him, but before he could climb off the sofa, Bruce stopped him.

"Peter." He looked nervous, but in an endearing way, even more so when he smiled. "Gimme a kiss."

Peter almost laughed, but he caught himself. He settled for a grin as he leaned in and gave Bruce the best good-morning kiss he could muster. Sometimes Bruce hesitated when Peter was so eager to lead, but not then; he returned the kiss with gentle passion and wrapped Peter up, reassuring him with more than words. It was so tempting to stay. Then the bathroom door creaked open, and they untangled themselves so quickly Peter ended up thumping ungracefully on the floor.

"Peter?" May called down. "Are you up?"

"Yeah, Aunt May!" He and Bruce shared boyish grins as he clambered upright. "I'm going to make some breakfast before we have to leave for the tower. Any special requests?"

"There's sausage in the fridge, if you want." Her footsteps headed for the bedroom. "Good morning, Bruce."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Good morning, May."

The door opened and then closed again. They both continued to listen as if something might follow, and then Peter couldn't help it anymore: he laughed. He sat down on the edge of the sofa for one more kiss, his laughter falling out the corners of his mouth. "You wanna help me make breakfast, Bruce?"

Bruce laughed, too. "Sure."

Bruce let Peter pull him to his feet, and together they headed for the kitchen. Between the two of them eggs, sausage, and toast was an easy feat to manage, and everything was ready by the time Aunt May descended. As the three of them sat down for family breakfast, Peter couldn't stop smiling.


End file.
